As a Father You Have Been
by KimberlyTheOwl
Summary: Meriadoc Brandybuck's farewell at the burial mound of Theoden. "He was something very special to you, wasn't he?" Merry nodded. "Very special," he whispered. "A fine fellow... as fierce as a great wolf in battle, but kind to a lonely hobbit far from home. I shall miss him very much." His voice broke on the last words.


Author's Notes: There are certain scenes in RoTK, after the War of the Ring but before the Scouring of the Shire, that I have always loved. One is the bit where Aragorn dispenses judgments, including making Faramir Prince of Ithilien and sending Beregond to serve with him. Another is the end of that same scene, when Eomer comes to Aragorn, and the King says that wonderful phrase, "We are brethren...". And then there is the parting of Merry from Eomer and Eowyn, and the giving of the horn... oh, so many lovely bits.  
  
More bittersweet is the scene of Merry at Theoden's burial, where he weeps and says farewell to the fallen Lord of the Mark. I always have liked to think that Pippin found him there, at the burial mound, to give him some comfort in his sadness before dragging him off to the funeral feast. And so, this little ficlet.  
  
This is dedicated to Russ Heggen, my father-in-law, who has ever been a father to me and whose memory lives on in his sons, one of whom I was privileged enough to marry. Rest in peace, Dad, and know that we will miss you.  
  
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One by one, or in clumps of two or three, the other mourners left the mound. Some tossed fragrant bundles of simbelmyne or other blossoms onto the freshly turned earth. Merry watched dully through tear-filmed eyes as the flowers bounced lightly and rolled down the sides of the mound.  
  
He could hear, dimly, the sounds of clattering and clanking coming from the great golden-thatched hall, mixed with the murmur of voices: muted at first, as befitting this solemn occasion, but gradually rising to a more normal pitch. Closing his eyes, he could smell the aromas of roasting meat and baking bread.  
  
"They are starting the feast in there, I suppose," he thought to himself, dragging his sleeve across his eyes. "And I should go and join my friends, or they will soon come in search of me."  
  
He looked around furtively, to see if anyone else remained near Theoden's mound. He saw no-one; perhaps they had had all gone inside.  
  
"But," he said, now speaking aloud softly, "it doesn't seem right to go off and leave you by yourself, just to eat and drink. I don't feel much like either one right now, to tell you the truth. I should like to stay with you for a while longer, if you don't mind.  
  
"Eomer tells me that you had an honor guard in Minas Tirith, that the men of the Citadel took it in turns to keep vigil with you until you could be brought home and properly buried. And I would have been there with you, but I was too sick, and they wouldn't let me leave the Houses of Healing. I couldn't see you, until it was time to bring you home to the Mark. At least then, they let me ride with you and keep vigil over you and your arms."  
  
Merry paused, remembering that sorrowful ride. He hadn't felt disturbed at being so close to the dead king, as he had half-expected, but it had been a sore trial to his self-composure. He had felt as if all eyes were upon him during the journey, and had tried very hard to mimic the stern dignity of the Riders that surrounded him. More than a few tears had fallen from his gentle hobbit eyes during the sad procession but he had done his best to hide them. Now, at last, he was alone.  
  
He knelt at the edge of the mound, his knees sinking into the soft earth, and bowed his head into his hands. "Theoden King," he whispered, "as a father you were to me, for a little while... and I tried to be a son to you. I am sorry, that I repaid your trust with disobedience, but I hope that you have forgiven me for my actions. I don't regret that I came to the battle. I wouldn't have been able to say farewell to you if I had stayed back in safety. And you died valiantly, and saved many lives, and were the joy and inspiration of your people in your last days."  
  
He could feel the tears starting again, and took a deep breath to try to push them back. "I only regret that we never had the chance to sit and smoke together, and share tales of happier times in a place of peace. I shall always remember you, and..."  
  
Merry felt his throat constrict and could not continue. He knelt there, as still as a carven statue, feeling the warm tears leak out between his fingers, and wept as silently as he could.  
  
Only a sharp-eared hobbit would have heard the footsteps approaching... the soft tread of small unshod feet on lush green turf. Even before he removed his hands from his tear-streaked face, Merry knew who he would see before him when he opened his eyes.  
  
"Hullo, Pip," he managed. He wiped his sleeve across his eyes again, wishing that he had thought to bring a handkerchief.  
  
"Hullo, Merry." His cousin sat down next to him.  
  
Merry tried to smile. "Did they send you to look for me?"  
  
Pippin nodded. "They will be doing something ceremonial soon, I think, and Eowyn wants very much for you to be there." He moved a little closer and put a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "And there is an awful lot of mead and ale being served. If you don't join me, I might just have more than is good for me."  
  
"You would anyway, whether I am there or not," replied Merry. But he stood slowly and dusted the loose earth off of his breeches and tunic. Pippin rose with him, and looked thoughtfully at the mound.  
  
"He was something very special to you, wasn't he?"  
  
Merry nodded. "Very special," he whispered. "A fine fellow... as fierce as a great wolf in battle, but kind to a lonely hobbit far from home. I shall miss him very much." His voice broke on the last words.  
  
Pippin stepped closer and threw his arms around his friend. Merry laid his head on his cousin's shoulder for a moment. "I am sorry, Merry," murmured Pippin. "If it would help... please, tell me more about him. When we ride back. I want to hear all about him."  
  
Merry pulled back and managed a watery smile. "I will. But later, as you said. We had better go into the hall before Eowyn grows worried. And then, maybe you can lead me to this mead and ale."  
  
"Now you are sounding like a proper hobbit," smiled Pippin. "Come along, my dear fellow, and let's show these Men how a feast should be enjoyed. Some ale, some food, some mead, a little more ale..." He draped a companionable arm around Merry's shoulders and began to lead him toward the hall. "... some more food, some singing, a little dancing... you know, I think that we could teach them a thing or two."  
  
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End file.
